


Self-Love

by Azelto



Category: Julian Casablancas - Fandom
Genre: Clone Sex, M/M, RPF, Self-cest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:21:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24900730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azelto/pseuds/Azelto
Summary: “Jules…” Julian whispered.The other Julian gazed back. “You’re… gorgeous.”“So are you.”
Relationships: Julian Casablancas/Julian Casablancas
Comments: 1
Kudos: 11





	Self-Love

What was it about the mannequin that made Julian feel so… aroused? No, that wasn’t the right word. ‘Aroused’ sounded like the beginnings of curiosity, as if he were only just starting to explore his desire. But this desire tore through him, left him unable to think of anything else, and now his dick was so hard it was painful.

And yet this all felt so wrong… the mannequin was supposed to be _him_. Why was he so overcome with thoughts of ravishing his own image?

The filming of the ‘Instant Crush’ music video was torture. He wanted so badly to touch the mannequin, to take its clothes off, do unspeakable things to it… Would the props manager allow him to take it home when the filming was done? He _needed_ to be alone with it, even just for an hour.

It turned out that luck was on his side: the props manager was fine with him keeping it, as otherwise it would just take up space in storage. He waited for a time when his wife was out, then collected it and took it home.

He locked his bedroom door and closed the curtains. At last, he was alone with it, the literal object of his desire.

Wrapping his arms around it from behind, he stroked its chest and pressed his erection up to its bottom. “Oh, Jules…” he moaned, unable to stop himself. “Jules, you’re so gorgeous… so fucking gorgeous…” He rutted against it, kissing its hair and neck.

Shaking fingers unbuttoned its coat and shirt, ran down its smooth chest. “Beautiful… oh Jules, I want you so bad…”

Slipping a hand down the mannequin’s belt, he felt for what he needed…

Only to find nothing, just plastic. No hole to penetrate, not even a real dick.

He choked back a sob.

Something caught his eye, and he looked up at the mirror that hung on the wall. It was not the mannequin he wanted; it was _him_.

In desperation he pressed his hand to the glass, staring at himself. He really was mind-blowingly gorgeous. He realised he was jealous of his wife, of all the girls he had kissed before; if only _he_ could kiss him. What must it feel like to sleep with him, to see the faces he made, hear the noises that escaped him as he climaxed? At that moment he would have given anything to be able to bed himself.

It was almost time for his wife to be coming home; he had to hide the mannequin before she started asking questions. Luckily there was a corner of the attic with a space big enough to put it in. He hoped she wouldn’t be going in there anytime soon.

He tried to think of ways to be able to replicate what having sex with him must feel like. There was the possibility of ordering a custom-made sex doll, but again that wouldn’t be the _real_ him; it wouldn’t be warm and alive.

In desperation he made random searches on the internet. And when he found the advertisement he was looking for, he started to tremble. The laboratory was nearby, and it looked like they had a shortage in participants. Without a further thought, Julian messaged them.

* * *

After booking a hotel room, he asked the people at the lab to send the other Julian there to wait for him. Then he had an idea: he went online and picked out the sexiest outfit he could find. He bought a wine-coloured silk camisole and matching shorts, trimmed with black lace. That would suit him, or the other him, perfectly. He sent it off to the lab with a note instructing the other Julian to wear it.

When the phone call came, he drove as fast as he could to the hotel, heart hammering in his chest at the thought of himself awaiting him there.

Once he stood outside the door to the room, he paused for a moment, savouring the anticipation of meeting the love of his life. Then he took a breath, and opened the door.

It was him. It was really him. The most beautiful man in the world: himself. He was lying on the bed, wearing the silk ensemble just as he had been asked, one leg crossed over the other. The Julians stared at each other.

Then with careful steps, the original Julian approached the other one. As far as he could see, the two of them were identical. Even their hair was the same length. He came to sit on the bed beside him, and cupped his face with his hand.

Yes: he has the same two moles on his left cheek by his ear. The same dark freckle near his nose.

“Jules…” he whispered.

The other Julian gazed back. “You’re… gorgeous.”

“So are you.”

And he leaned forward and kissed him. Soft, warm, tender. It was everything he had ever dreamed of. Then he kissed every freckle and mole on his face.

As he trailed his hand downwards, he felt the flatness of his chest under the silk camisole, the ‘V’ of his hips, his soft thighs. This was far better than feeling himself up in front of a mirror. The other Julian let out soft moans as he caressed him.

Slipping his fingers under the lace trim of the other Julian’s shorts, Julian teased the soft skin that he found there. “Do you like that, Jules?” He murmured. But he already knew that he would: he was himself, after all.

The other Julian whined. “Unh… Jules, take me… please… use me…”

“But you’re far too pretty for me to use all in one go… I could tear your clothes off and fuck you against the wall, but then it would be over so fast… I want to savour you.”

Groaning in frustration, the other Julian shoved Julian’s hand away, then turned over. He thrust his shorts down and spread his cheeks. “ _Please_ …” it sounded like there were tears in his eyes. He puckered his hole, making it look like it wanted a kiss. “Jules, I _need_ you… you’re so gorgeous…”

“I know I am, and that’s why I had you made. Now put that away and turn over, please. I still haven’t had my fun with your thighs.”

With a sigh of resignation, the other Julian pulled his shorts back up and rolled over so that Julian could torture his thighs.

Tickles, kisses, bites; Julian gave Julian's thighs everything that such works of art deserved. His skin was soft and smelled of cumin, and his thighs wobbled every so slightly as they trembled when Julian kissed them. Every so often, between kisses and sucks, Julian would let his hand creep up the other Julian’s shorts as slowly and gently as he could, until he was teasing Julian's thigh fold. This would make the other Julian whine and shudder, hips bucking into the air in anticipation of what was to come… and then Julian would pull his fingers away, back to the lining of his shorts, back to more torture.

“Jules, it’s painful…” The other Julian whined.

“As it should be.” Julian traced some of the lyrics of his songs, letter by letter, over the other Julian’s thigh fold. “How pretty you look, dressed like this, begging me for pleasure… You’re already so turned on, just as I would be in your situation.” He pulled his hand away, back down to the other Julian’s inner thigh. “Now, I want you to do something for me.”

“What is it?” Tears were in the other Julian’s eyes, and his dick threatened to rip the fine silk of his shorts.

Julian reached for his phone, which was on the bedside table. “Let me take some pictures.”

He made the other Julian, who was still desperate for Julian to touch him where he needed it, stand in front of the wall opposite the bed. He told him exactly how to pose: bend over so his thighs were on full display, legs apart just enough… Lean against the wall and lift the camisole up just enough to tease the viewer with the line of his hip bone... Then lie down on the bed, one hand above his head, looking as if he were about to be enjoyed. The knowledge that the other Julian was at this point so desperate to be used made the pictures look even hotter.

The way his collarbones came out on the third photo… as soon as he saw it, Julian tossed his phone away and enveloped them in his mouth. Sucking hard enough to form a bruise, and then another. Marking him as _his_ , and nobody else’s. He could feel the other Julian’s pulse throbbing, hear him gasp for breath. He bit down on the bone, and the other Julian wailed and rutted against Julian’s stomach.

Pulling his mouth away, Julian pointed to the bruises that covered the other Julian’s clavicle. “You see these? These mean that you’re mine. I don’t want you to go sleeping with anyone else. You’re my Jules and you belong to me.”

For a long time Julian paused, staring at his clone as if trying to come to some sort of decision. Then he said, “I’m just thinking about the best way to fuck you…”

The other Julian rutted again.

“It has to be on the bed, of course. Do I want you bent over, or… no, I want you facing me. I want to know what my face looks like when I'm being fucked. But I don’t want to take your pretty outfit off… I’m going to have to slide my dick under your shorts.”

“Oh, Jules…” his clone gasped. “Jules, fuck me. Fuck me now. I’m begging you.”

Julian smirked. “All right. Onto your back. Rest your head against the pillow.”

The other Julian did as he was asked. Then Julian knelt down in between his legs, appraising how much of a mess Julian had become. Sweat covered his skin, his cheeks were flushed, he was trembling all over… He couldn’t believe this is what all of his previous partners had seen when they had bedded him. It was such an honour to be able to see this for himself.

He grabbed the lube from the bedside table and covered his fingers in it. Then he let one hand creep up the other Julian’s thigh, this time passing his thigh fold, until he found the hot, tight hole. He inserted his index finger, and the other Julian gasped.

“Jules, that… that feels so good…”

“You deserve it, you gorgeous thing.” He then inserted another finger, then a third.

At last he unzipped his jeans, then slid his erection under the left leg of the other Julian’s shorts. When he was inside his clone, both of them gasped. Being joined this way with a woman was nothing compared to how it felt to be one with himself, to feel the inside of his own body surrounding him. He began to thrust, and to give his mind away to the pleasure.

They clung to each other, moaning, “Jules…” over and over. Their limbs tangled, and they forgot which Julian was the original and which one was the clone.

In a moment of sudden desperation one of the Julians tugged down the neckline of the other Julian’s shirt, to try and find – yes, it was there! The mole on Julian’s chest. He kissed it, over and over.

Teeth found skin and bit down. One of them moaned in pleasurable pain, and the other moaned back in response. Then the moans turned into singing, soft melodies intertwining with each other, and Julian thrust harder at the sound of his own voice singing back to him.

Julian kissed Julian’s neck, felt the vibration of his throat as he sang. “Jules…” he gasped. “My Jules… mine…” Julian moaned in response. To know that he belonged to himself was on a higher level than marriage.

This was incomparable to making love to another person. He knew himself more than anyone else, knew what he liked, knew exactly where to touch him. While thrusting, he laid a hand on Julian’s right thigh, caressing the skin with his fingers. This made Julian’s eyes roll back in his head, shuddering on the edge of climax.

Julian then grabbed Julian’s dick, pleasuring him just the way he knew he liked it.

At exactly the same moment, they came, their orgasms identical, screaming each other’s name at the top of their lungs.

In the afterglow they held each other, feeling each other's warmth and softness. Julian had never felt more complete than he did now, lying in his own arms, caressing his own hair.

"Jules?" He murmured.

"Mm?"

"I love you."

"I love you too."

He had once read that finding love for oneself was the most important form of acceptance. And now at last, he had found it.


End file.
